


two worlds and one heart

by evanescentdawn



Series: Elric Brothers [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Angst, Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa, Complicated Feels, Ed misses Al so much it gets unbearable sometimes, Everything Hurts, M/M, Multi, Sibling Incest, its implied but like in the strongest sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanescentdawn/pseuds/evanescentdawn
Summary: Alfons is not Al.It’s harder to remember that, sometimes.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric/Edward Elric, Edward Elric/Alfons Heiderich
Series: Elric Brothers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056977
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	two worlds and one heart

**Author's Note:**

> I cried while writing this. God, this movie!!

Ed knows that Alfons is not his brother despite the similarities. He stares hard at the face shape and the hair and thinks, if Al his body, and if Al had grown normally—it hurts to think of this, to know that Al is in his body now somewhere else _growing up_ where Ed can’t see—Al would look like Alfons. A slight change to the eye colour and hair, and it...would be brother. 

His heart clenches at that and it’s hard to get through, but Ed manages. (He has to) 

Maybe it’s why sometimes, Ed finds it so easy to talk to Alfons. He imagines it’s Al beside him, it’s Al, who’s smiling—even though the smile is all wrong but what does Ed know? He doesn’t know the way Al smiles, he only has memories of a blurry childhood and an emotionless, stone-faced armour. 

He won’t ever get the chance to see the real thing, won’t get to see Al smile, or do his nose-wrinkle thing, or ever hear his “ _Brother_!” as he tries to reprimand him, or his stupid tears over his cats. His—

 _Oh god_. He won’t ever get to see Al, again. He won’t be able to know whether it worked—did he get his body back? Was it all for nothing, and is his brother in that armour still, unable to eat, to feel anything, with dark, long nights curled in a blanket unable to sleep. Lonely, separated from the world, and unsure of his existence. And Ed _left him like that._

He tries to not think of the last one. His throat gets choked up and his chest is aching so much that he thinks he is going to die. He may already be dead, anyways. (Al was all he had, he was his life and so much more.)

Alfons is not Al. 

But—

There are sometimes, where it’s so hard to see the differences—to remember that it’s Alfons, and not Al, not his brother—brief moments or sometimes, long hours where Alfons feels so much like Al that Ed wants to cry. 

Alfons turns to face him, and—

It’s not Alfons, but Al, he’s staring at. It doesn’t make sense—he’s hallucinating, there’s no other way to describe it. He shouldn’t be getting attached; it’s dangerous, he’s still finding himself a way home. Endless, messy scribbles tucked in the bottom of his suitcase, even when all he’s been hitting are dead ends. (He can’t stay here, it’s not his world. It’s not where his heart is.) 

But—

When he kisses Alfons, slants his lips over his. It eases the painful ache in his heart and he almost feels like it’s... 

Al, and he’s home. He’s where he belongs and not in a very distant, strange land with no Al. The smell is all wrong, the softness of skin and warmth—not what he remembers. It’s not hard and cold, it’s not the clang of metal when Alfons moves. But there’s something undeniable familiar about Alfons, something about his eyes, and something about him that reminds him so damn much of Al, it’s unbearable. 

And harder to remember, sometimes. That it isn’t his brother, isn’t Al. Ed chases the taste and clasps Alfons’ neck to swallow the other’s moans as he thinks of _Al, Al, Al._

This is the closest to Al that Ed has gotten, and he _wants more._ He wants to be buried inside of him, clinging to the point of bruises, so utterly close he can feel Alfons— _Al, Al, Al_ —like nothing else. 

He feels guilt using Alfons like this. He’s his own person, not his brother, not Al. Not fair to Alfons, when he’s already desperately trying to make the rockets—trying to create his own space in this world. 

Sometimes, the guilt gets too much; when he hears Alfons’s sickly coughs, sees the build-up of tissue stained with blood, and watches the determination glint in his eyes as he keeps living. 

(Alfons is dying and when Ed looks at him—all he can see is his brother.) 

“Ed—“ Alfons screams. When they are like this, his voice gets twisted and it sounds like he’s hearing Al instead of Alfons. The words distort, and it’s _Ed, Nii-San.  
_

Ed ignores the heaviness pressing on his throat, and keeps kissing Alfons. 

  
  
  
  


Al wakes with a gasp, tears streaking down his face. The memory of Ed’s smile and the taste of his mouth lingers.

It takes a moment before he can wake up, this time. His heart squeezes in his chest, and this pain is unbearable. Al lays there, in the bed and chases that memory of Ed’s hand on his skin—gripping him like a dying man—and the taste of Ed’s mouth. The loud ringing of _Al, Al, Al._ And cries harder, silently, choking up. 

(No one believes his tales of his dreams, no one believes that his brother is alive anymore.) 

(But Al knows he is.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! ♥️♥️


End file.
